You're gonna go far, kid
by chaoshead13
Summary: With an ego to match his skills, Officer Alfred F. Jones has spent years chasing after the shadows of a single criminal, England. Undercover as his bodyguard, can he bend his heroic morals to protect someone who breaks the laws he's sworn to uphold? USUK
1. Crime's a business

Alfred F. Jones was in a situation.

Clad in a dark blue uniform, he stood at the dead centre of a dank, small room of an abandoned country home, his heavy black boots digging into the dust. Only a strip of light entered from the outside, through a window completely shaded by layers of mud. But, to be in a space that was less than ideal, no, disgustingly unlivable was not his situation. It was the cold metal that was pressed against his forehead that worried him.

Life or death. That was his situation.

" C'mon man! Just tell your guys outside to leave, and you go home alive! Got me?"

Hearing a tone of desperation behind him, Alfred observed through a cracked mirror hanging on the far wall, the life threatening scene in which he took part with a calm that only one with utmost confidence and calm could hold. A man, gaunt from head to toe, was holding a gun to his head, his other arm around his neck in a tight choke hold.

" Aw, that's not nice! They're all waitin' for you to come out, so they can bring ya to the party in those pretty white cars with the flashy blue and red lights! Ain't cool of you to tell them to go away!"

Despite the tight hold around his neck and the metal that could end his life at any moment against his brain, the American bit in a snarky remark, knowing the reaction it would create. A finger pressed tighter on a trigger.

" Shut up! As long as I can kill you anytime I want, they won't come in! I'll just use you against them!"

The captor tightened his grip on the captive, accenting his previous words by pushing the butt of the gun harder against the American's forehead.

Ouch.

Closing his eyes momentarily, Alfred sighed. Criminals were really so stupid weren't they? Always repeating the same thing like a broken record.

_" No one can catch us!"_

So stupid. Didn't they know that the good guys always won? That the hero always saved the day?

" Hurry up and tell the officers outside to leave!"

Guess not.

"Nope! Don't feel like it!" Adding in a bouncy tone, just to annoy his captor, the blue eyed male debated on the actions he should take. What was it that Ludwig told him? Wink for a sniper, yawn for a crash. What was a crash? Hmmm. Sniper would be a lot safer. He yawned.

_CRASH!_

" Drop your weapon and put your hands on the ground! "

A loud German voice commanded through the small space, the window shattering into pieces following behind a single bullet. Alfred quirked an eyebrow. So that was a crash. Fun.

" D-don't step any closer! Or I'll shoot this guy's brains out!"

The desperate cry went unheard as heavy footsteps, belonging to men clad in black armour began to pile into the room, large guns resting in their hands, all directed towards the single criminal in the room. A large man stood at the forefront of the group, blond hair slicked back as blue eyes burned with determination. " The orders that were given out in dealing with you were 'no negotiations'. Put the gun down or we _will _shoot."

" Shut up! Don't you care what happens to this guy?" The question rang out, it's meaning accented with a tighter grip on the trigger. A trigger that would be pulled if the grip were to tighten even a millimetre more. But, despite that, the German remained calm, calculating eyes on both the criminal and his fellow officer. " Alfred F. Jones can handle himself."

Disbelieving, the criminal laughed, insane and broken, and for a moment his hand loosened. " This guy? We'll see how he handles himself when he's de-"

The last word was cut off suddenly as a hand went upward, sharp and accurate, pinpointing man's wrist with a sharp jab. It was a miracle that the gun remained in his hand as he stumbled backwards to the ground, releasing the blue eyed male. Alfred walked forward, grinning.

" What was that, dude? I didn't get a chance to hear you? " Brushing himself off, the American's smirk widened when a fellow officer handed him a hand gun. One that he pointed at the criminal on the ground. " You were saying something about me not handling myself?"

The man widened his eyes, starting into the dark barrel of the weapon, the promise of either capture or death eminent. " Y-you...bastard..."

" Aw, that's mean. You shouldn't call me names just 'cause you lost!" The American paused. " Well, now that the game's over, I guess I should go through the motions now, shouldn't I? " Taking a step forward, Alfred aimed his weapon closer to the criminal's head. " Drop your weapon and get on your knees with your hands on your head. Or I will be have to use unnecessary force against you."

Swallowing anxiously, the man grinned insanely in the face of his downfall. It was over for him, even a blind man would be able to see that. But, the uniforms wouldn't get anything out of him.

" He won't forgive you for this..." The criminal glared the officer's face, smiling widely when Alfred frowned, stopping his advancse towards him. " That man won't forgive you for bringing down one of his people!"

" What?" Frowning now, Alfred stared at the grinning man before him, confused. " What the fuck are you trying to say?"

The criminal giggled, bringing the point of his own gun to his temple. " ENGLAND WON'T FORGIVE YOU!"

Alfred brought a hand out, realizing one the man was about to do. " Hey, wait! Do-"

A shot rang out, followed by a hollow thump on rotting wood. The criminal fell into a pool of crimson that continued to grow, a bullet embed into his head. Alfred swore.

" Fuck! That wasn't supposed to happen!"

Biting his lip, blue orbs on the body in front him, the American ran a hand over his hair, kicking the air violently.

" ...shit..."

* * *

><p>Smoke swirled in the already polluted air as a man took a long drag of a cigarette, blond hair swaying in the cold breeze. Seated on the freezing cement steps of desolate brick building, the man glanced to his right, green eyes hazed with the moment's boredom.<p>

The sight of nameless faces and monotone bustle met his senses.

He looked to the left.

More nameless faces.

Sighing, the man took another breath of smoke, swirling it into his lungs and blowing it out into the air. For a single moment the smoke settled in front of his face, blocking the view of the sky as it dissipated. To anyone with the curiosity to even spare him a glance, the man- dressed in a classy black suit, coat draped over the shoulders- would have seemed like a businessman, on break from a shift of work. And, in truth, his job wasn't far from it. Though it wasn't any legal. At least to society it wasn't/

After all, in the end, crime's a business.

Staring out into the grey streets, at all the living beings that walked along it, the blond chuckled. Really. It always amused him to wonder how many people would be willing to put a gun to his head if anyone were to happen to found out who he was. Someone who made a profit in killing people. Extorting people. Cheating people.

England chuckled once more. It would be the majority wouldn't it?

* * *

><p>Seated in a chair positioned to the side of the door of a small office, Alfred F. Jones, banged the back of his head against the wall, muttering to himself. It was supposed to be a simple arrest. Bust in, capture the guy and everyone goes home good and happy. The criminal wasn't supposed to be dead. Sighing, Alfred rubbed his forehead, it's ache probably the result of his own head banging.<p>

_England won't forgive you!_

Running over the statement in his head, the blue eyed American muttered to himself.

England. England, England, England, England. The bastard responsible for everything wrong with his beloved city. If it wasn't for him, the number of crime would probably cut by a fourth, seeing how he was the cause for it. His job would probably be a whole shitload easier too. Not that he'd didn't appreciate being the Hero. Alfred continued to mutter to himself.

Damn, how he wanted the man dead. Behind bars at least. The American tried to push away unheroic thoughts.

"Alfred."

Flinching, the blond turned to whom addressed him. He faced equally blue eyes and equally blond hair. " Hey, Ludwig. How'd it go?"

Stepping out of the office door, the German slicked back his already slicked back hair as he answered. " Yao's angry that we let the criminal shoot himself. We both have to write our own separate reports."

Grumbling, Alfred nodded. " Another report... I still have a couple more to do..."

For a moment, the German's eyes stared at the other sympathetically in understanding. For the past three years of service, Alfred F. Jones was given everything that had even the slightest connection to the man that went by the name of England. Murders, thefts, drug deals. The whole shebang. But, three years later, the list only lengthened as the American continued to make attempts at capturing someone he's never even met, let alone seen.

England.

Age: Mid twenties

Height: Unknown

Weight : Unkown

Nationality: British

Appearance...nothing more than a few inaccurate sketches based on dozens of accounts and a couple of blurred pictures. Just enough to prove the man existed.

Running the only known information on the criminal in his head, Ludwig clutched at a large manila envelope under his arm. Hopefully the assignment that he was about to give the American would be the last one involving England. The chance to finally get one of America`s most dangerous criminals behind bars. Speaking, the German handed the fellow blonde an envelope. " Alfred. You've been given a new assignment."

* * *

><p>Laying his head on a pile of finished paperwork, England yawned, pushing the papers off to the side of his desk and leaning back into his office chair. He spenta good two hundred bucks just for the chair, a moderate sum, but with the level of comfort he was receiving, it was more than worth it. Sighing, and resting his head in the chair cushions, the Briton rested his hands in front his eyes, deep in thought. Business was slow. Braginski was currently visiting his family in Russia, so no drug deals with him. And that dirty mouthed Vargas was too busy pretending he <em>wasn't <em>a bleeding arms dealer while his goody two shoes brother with a cop for a boyfriend kept dropping in for daily visits. Really, the Italian was always swearing that if it wasn't for the 'no-good German bastard' he'd be free to do as he pleased. Yet he refused to plant a bullet in the man's brain. All for the sake of his family

England sighed. Family. What an annoyance. Good thing he was dead to them. Saved him a lot more trouble.

Grumbling, England rubbed his temples, trying to encourage sleep to overtake him. He swore when a knock came past the door, followed by a click of a lock and an annoying laugh.

" Having a nice nap there, Arthur?"

Of everyone the Briton knew, only a handful of people called him by his real name. And of all those people only one had a key to his office. England glanced up at the arrival.

" Prussia."

An albino, smartly dressed in a black suit with a contradicting yellow tie, fraught with dozens of pictures of yellow chicks, entered the room, grinning at the criminal leader.

" Kesesesese~ C'mon there, eyebrows, what was it we agreed on with the name calling?"

Arthur grumbled, repeating his acknowledgement differently as the Albino, German from the accent, shut the door behind him. " Gilbert."

Names. Separate from 'England'. Separate from ' Prussia'. Separate from the identities of two criminals and the only sense of innocence in a bloody world.

Grinning, the other strode into the room, seating himself in a chair in front of the Briton's desk and laying his head on the wooden surface. He continued to smile, his expression contradicting the dark contents that he spoke of. " One of our dogs died."

Arthur's interest level rose slightly. " Which one?"

Gilbert responded with a laugh. " Dunno! Got cornered by some big ones so he shot himself. Stayed a loyal bitch 'till the end!"

Interest depressing once more, the Briton frowned. " That's the third one this month...how does the police keep finding them?"

Smile dropping now, the red eyed male's tone turned serious. " I'm not sure. But, there might be a leak..." He scratched his head. " France suggested we do something to protect you. Since you're the boss."

Arthur made a strangled noise at the statement, clearly expressing his objection. " I don't need to be bloody protected!""

Gilbert laughed once more. " I know! But it was really funny how adamant h/e was about it!" The Albino quietened slightly. " And it does have it's good points. How many people tried to kill you this month? Twenty-two?" He paused.

" Sorry, but it looks like you're getting a bodyguard"

* * *

><p>Alfred shuffled down a dark hall, tugging at his civilian clothing as he stared straight ahead, trying not to glance at the long haired blond man beside him. He tried to remember as much as he could of the assignment .<p>

_This man is Francis Bonnefoy. He's been undercover as one of England's underlings for the past couple years. He goes by the name France. And he was the one who recommended you into the group. Get caught and you're both dead. And don't forget. There, you will go by the name America._

" So...been here long?" Suffocating under the silence, Alfred attempted to strike up a conversation, finally glancing at the other. The man, Francis Bonnefoy, had blue eyes and blond hair, just as himself, staring straight ahead at their destination. Alfred was beginning to feel a small bit of respect for the man, someone who seemed to hold their position in high regard. At least until the man responded.

" Hon, hon, hon~ Frightened, are we?" The Frenchman seemed to leer down at him pervertedly as he examined his his fellow undercover coworker. ". Do not fret, petit lapin! I will ensure you are well protected, hmmm?" He accented the statement with a grope, chuckling when the American jumped away from his reach. It was then that they were met by another man, an Albino.

_England's right hand man goes by the name ' Prussia'. Like England, we have nothing on him, except that he is German and an Albino._

Alfred examined the man in front of him, tilting his head. Ludwig had seemed uncomfortable when describing the man. And, from what he could see, the two seemed to resemble each other. He shook his head slightly. It could just be that they were both German.

" Kesesesese~ Already groping the new birdie, France? Kesese~" Strutting over to meet them, Prussia extended a hand to the American, introducing himself. " I'm the awesome Prussia! I'll be the one of the awesome people teaching you the ropes while you're here!"

Nodding, Alfred took the hand, still cautious. " I'm America." He paused. " The Hero." No matter what the situation was, he had to say it.

Grinning, Prussia nodded, leading him to a door. "Guess we shouldn't keep you from your princess then!"

He opened the door slowly.

* * *

><p>A bodyguard. Scowling to himself, England glared at the door, awaiting the people who would soon walk through it. Really, the gall that France had to suggest, even <em>recommend <em>to him a body guard. Especially an idiot American. Who was...who probably was...

" England! I have a delivery for you!"

...a brat.

Staring at his soon to be protector, England was met with sunny blond hair and blue eyes. Physically, he was the Briton's type of man. Toned with muscles, not bulging yet not unnoticeable and eyes that held an attractive sort of confidence. But, he was young. From the list of experience he was given,he had expected someone maybe in his late thirties – or early forties. He frowned at the man who could be no older than he himself, 26, maybe younger. Still frowning, he couldn't stop his mouth from asking.

" Oi, do you still suck your mother's tits?"

* * *

><p><em>As you know, England is a man know for his cruelty and calculations. According to the few witnesses who we were able to get descriptions from, their first impressions of the criminal was that he is cold, conniving...manipulative and sharp tongued. Keep your guard up with him. <em>

Swallowing anxiously as the door opened slowly, Alfred prepared himself mentally to meet England. Since the beginning of his service as officer, the entirety of his assignments, except for a few drunken police calls, minor threats and the such, always had a connection to the Crime Lord. Drug deal, murder, extortion, thefts. Always, after thorough investigations, it was found that England had some sort of hand in such incidents. Never would the American would have expected that the man whom his entire career was built on would be someone so close to his age. But he was.

" England! I have a delivery for you!"

Hearing Prussia call out, Alfred continued to examine England, stepping through the door so that the both of them were in full sight of each other. The first thing he noticed were the eyebrows. Dark and thick, the American tried not to snicker as he attempted to focus on other things, like the man's age. England couldn't possibly be any older than he was, someone in his mid-twenties. Sandy blond hair fell nicely over emerald green eyes that seemed to glow in confidence and experience. But, that was not the only thing that the blue eyed male noticed. Running his eyes over the Briton once more, Alfred noticed the size of the man. For someone who caused so much pain to so many people, the man seemed small, as if an entire weight was keeping him down from the shoulders. Frowning, Alfred shook his head lightly as he attempted to push away his hero instincts to comfort such people. This man was a filthy criminal. He didn't deserve such things. Looking up, Alfred began to open his mouth, pausing only when noticing that the Briton was already speaking. " Oi. Do you still suck your mother's tits?"

_Remember to treat England with the utmost respect. He is someone who will kill at the slightest infraction. It may be difficult, but hold your tongue when you are with him._

Alfred froze. Was he just insulted? Thinking, the American came to a conclusion. He was. Instinctively opening his mouth to retort, Alfred was about to speak of something that could possibly get himself killed- an eyebrow insult- when Prussia laughed, possibly saving his life. " Kesesesese~ At least he can suck on tits without paying for them!" The German snorted. " But, knowing you, you'd want to have your tits sucked instead. And maybe something else too!"

The Briton stared blankly at his right hand man's retort as Alfred reached for his jacket pocket to his concealed weapon. From what he knew, the American expected the other to whip out a gun and shoot the German dead. And, even if Prussia was a criminal as well, there was no way he would let someone die in front of him. Alfred never expected it to become a verbal whiplash. Nor did he expect that instead of slamming a bullet in Prussia's brain, England would slam his hands on his desk. Lividly.

" What are you trying to imply, you bloody prat?" Glaring darkly at the Albino, England's face was an interesting mix of red and purple as he tried to keep himself from lunging at his long time friend and right hand man. And, from the way the vein in his neck was bulging, he was having difficulties with it.

" Kesesesese~ Nothing at all~" Still grinning at the other's reaction, Prussia brushed off the Brit's anger, flinging his arm around France's shoulder and leading him out the room." I'll leave the awesome new pet to you!"

The door shut behind them, leaving only the two blonds in the room in awkward silence. England glared vehemently at his now bodyguard, as if he would like nothing more than to have his hands around his neck in a strangle hold. Alfred groaned. Great. Now he was a victim of misplaced anger. Moving along as the length of silence only increased, Alfred attempted to introduce himself.

" Nice t' meet ya, England! My name is American, the Hero!" He flashed a friendly grin, trying to make up for the horrible first impression. " I'm your new bod-"

" I know who you are, boy."

Attempt fail.

Meeting the Briton eye to eye, the American caught a glimpse of mistrust in dark emerald orbs as the other male continued to glare at him, frowning. The blue eyed male's smile twitched.

Alfred F. Jones was in a situation. A dangerous one.

* * *

><p><strong> AN: Yoooo...I know I should be working on not just a fling right now, buuut...writers block is a murder and so was this plot bunny...so here it is... andsince I'm still focused on not just a fling, this fic is more to see reactions. I'll continue it since, no fic of mine will ever go unfinished but update time will be strange. Though I'll try to keep it regular.**


	2. A gift of guns not roses

**A/N: ...okay, guys. Okay. M rating. Don't forget. Beware and enjoy. And sorry, no smut**.

* * *

><p>Does he know?<p>

That was the only thought that Alfred F. Jones could comprehend as he caught the Briton glaring – no-_ maybe that was his natural face_, _**staring **_at him for the past hour. After the American had entered the room, the man had offered him a drink of tea, which he had naturally declined. Then, England had told him that he could make himself comfortable in the room; an order he easily obeyed, judging from the way he was lounging on a black leather sofa, worn from years of use. The space in which both males resided in was large, beige walls giving the area a homey feeling, while dark red carpet that was spread out between them and throughout the entire room clearly accented the pure mahogany furniture – a desk and shelf – that resided in the office as well. But, despite the ample allowance of personal space between the two, the American failed to create a content atmosphere for himself with two dark emerald orbs boring into him"Ya need somethin'?"

Francis had told him that England trusted ones with confidence the most, thus, instead of acting as the obedient dog that the office had told him to be, Alfred- no, America- deigned to act as himself. It didn't seem England minded though as he propped his elbow on his table, his head in his palm and continued to stare. He answered the blue eyed male's question only moments later; with a question of his own.

"You were recommended by that Frog, correct?"

A look of confusion spread through America's features as the boy failed to recognize the one known as 'Frog'. Was it Francis' nick name? The American chuckled inwardly despite himself at the realization as he answered, a straight face betraying his hidden emotions.

"That's right."

England went silent for another moment before he continued to speak. "Does that mean you're his bitch?"

At that second, Alfred was grateful he didn't accept the tea he was offered only minutes prior. because from his reaction - an episode of spluttering - it would have found it's way over the floor. A waste of perfectly good tea. "What?"

Eyebrows beginning to furrow, the green eyed male answered by rewording his words into more simpler terms with a frown. "Does he fuck you?"

Alfred's face burned red with indignation at the question. He shot up from his seat, his eyes blazed with mild animosity. " Hell no!"

"Oh, so you're the one who fucks him? That's amusing," The sandy haired blonde continued the conversation nonchalantly, choosing not to see the others anger.

" We do not fuck each other! I just met the guy!" Disgusted by the idea of sleeping with someone, a man no less, that he had just met not even hours prior, Alfred momentarily forgot that they had known each other for years. At least according to his cover they did. He froze when the other raised a suspicious eyebrow. " You just met?"

Shit.

Quickly making attempt to cover up, Alfred blurted the first excuse that came to his mind. " He dates my brother! I've known about him from my awesome bro for years but I never met him 'till now! My bro likes keeping a low profile! I don't even see him half the time even when he's standing right beside me!"

Lies. He wasn't even sure if his brother was gay.

His breath kept on hold, Alfred tried to keep himself from a panic as he was under the scrutinizing watch of the Criminal Lord. He swallowed. _He knows. He knows. He knows._

"I see. Hm. Well then, how old are you?"

Safe.

A sigh left the American's lips at the change of subject as Alfred gladly responded. " I'm twenty-five"

"Only a year younger then."

A contemplative expression fell on the Brit's face then, causing the other's heart rate to rise in anxiousness. England reached for one of his desk drawers, retrieving a clipped together stack of paper and giving them a one over.

"According to the documents I received from France, you went through police training for two years at the age of nineteen, but, after a bout with your superior, you left, taking odd jobs as a bodyguard, which included guarding several well known politicians, and dealers here and there and around America, correct?"

Alfred swore inwardly at the scenario. It was a job interview. At least, something similar to it. Damn. He was never good at these type of things.

"That's right."

The other went silent again, still staring at the blue eyed male. "So, why did you decide to be a bodyguard?"

"I wanted to be Hero! To help and protect people!," Answering truthfully, Alfred's wish to be a Hero was something he could never lie about. Faced with a world in which he would have to lie about who he was, it would be the only truth that he would refuse to give up. But, even with the American's earnest words, Arthur couldn't help but chuckle with amusement.

"Hero?" His head at a tilt in his palm, the green eyed male continued to smile, his eyes never leaving the other's own blue orbs. "That's odd."

Alfred swallowed at the small two word statement; it was nothing more that a miniscule sentence, yet it almost seemed as if it was about to bring out an ultimatum. "Odd?," he asked, his words catching momentarily in his throat. England was still smiling, though there was nothing happy contained with the small upturned of lips. It was dark amusement that leered down at him from emerald orbs, examining the American as if he was nothing more than a doll to play with. Something to pass the time.

"Yes. It's strange."

Silence followed the observation as Arthur stood up from his high back office chair, revealing the man's attire fully. Dressed completely black in the form of a tuxedo, the only exception to the darkness was the white dress shirt within, accompanied by a forest green tie. It contrasted Alfred's own wear, an overused suit worn casually, buttons undone, under a heavy WWII style bomber jacket. In comparison, England brought the other to shame. The man seemed to mirror the image of an FBI agent from an old spy film – though the reality was far from it.

England took slow strides across the room, stopping only when when he was situated directly in front of the other. He leaned forward until their faces were just inches apart, kissable distance one could say, despite the fact that there was no intimacy in the action. The smile dropped. "It's strange that someone carrying such a naive mentality is still alive."

Taken aback by both the close proximity and the animosity behind the eyes of the Briton, Alfred took a step back, forgetting that the couch was still behind him. He fell backwards onto the cushions, his position all the more vulnerable to the other.

He wasn't scared. No. Alfred F. Jones didn't feel fear. He couldn't. After all, he was a Hero. But, with the Briton looming over him, seeming to threaten his very being, it couldn't be helped if his 'fight or flight' reaction was beginning to kick in. Always, his mind would choose 'fight' over 'flight'.

"If that's true, then it really says something 'bout me, doesn't it?," he smirked, gazing up at the criminal. "Seeing how I'm still alive, awesome, and as heroic as I've always been."

The egotistic statement held a confidence behind it, mirrored in Alfred's own sapphire orbs. All in all, it only served to amuse England even further. The Briton leaned forward, his smile returning as he refused to break eye contact with the American's bright eyes. It was truly a strange sight to encounter in a world where one could die if caught staring at another for any period of time longer than needed. He wondered if those sky like eyes would dim one day, it was a depressing thought, but reality nonetheless.

"Is that so?," England questioned, his lips upturning once more as he mirrored the other's own smirk. "I suppose that could be true."

Alfred's grin widened at the other's agreement. "Of course! I'm the Hero! I -"

Arthur cut him off, breaking into the invisible wall known as personal space even further. He tapped a finger under the American's chin, allowing his hand to continue downwards onto the other's chest. " But...I wonder how much longer that will remain true..."

"Hunh?," Alfred stared blankly at the sandy haired blond, thoughts unable to keep pace with his current situation. England's hand seemed to fall further down, sliding across and past his chest, until it reached the American's pants. At that moment, the American's breath didn't hitch, _it stopped._

_"_You see...," The Briton purred in other man's ear, circling his hand constantly atop America's lower regions, enjoying the wide eyed expression he elicited. "...in this world...under _my _rules...you have no other choice but to obey _me."_

England smiled, pausing in his ministrations for only the slightest moment. " Meaning if _I_ decided to degrade you...," he let out a hot breath against the other's cheek, smirk growing as his fingers curled, cupping Alfred's balls through thick, rough fabric. " _humiliate _you, _hurt _ you, _pleasure _you, you have no right to say no. Do you understand me?"

The man accentuated his point with pressure, pushing down his palm into the American's most sensitive region. America yelped in response to the touches. He couldn't believe it. This couldn't be happening. Was this man so sick, so twisted that he'd molest a man whom he'd barely even known? More importantly...Was he really going to sit back and allow this to happen to him?

Hell no.

Alfred felt the long held air in his lungs release as he let out a harsh sigh, his hands moving in familiar motions of self defence, even if his mind still had yet to catch up. His left hand shot diagonally, finding a firm grasp onto the Briton`s own left wrist, while his right palm swung to the man`s right shoulder, forcefully shoving the smaller male to the other end of the black leather sofa. Within moments, the two swift movements decided their positions switching who was in control.

Alfred F. Jones wasn't going to take this. He was a Hero. He was going to be this man's _body guard. _And he wasn't goin_g _to take shit from the one he was going to protect. Even if England was a powerful criminal – one who had the power to end his life at any given moment – as his bodyguard, he was the same. America had the ability to choose whether or not the small blond died.

"Sure 'nuff, _boss," _Alfred smiled through clenched teeth, his sky blue orbs glowering down at the Briton. " I got 'cha!"

The American held the green eyed male pinned to the soft leather of the sofa, the man's wrists crossed above his own head. He was going to reciprocate his humiliation- despite the consequences it would garner. Heroes had to take risks after all .

Quickly, England's tie went undone, loosened by the skillful precision the larger male's hand. Buttons unfastened with the same skill as Alfred glanced up to see the other's expression. He frowned. England was smiling. Why?

"Well. It's a real pleasure to see that the little puppy has bite after all," the Brit responded to the silent question, gazing up with half lidded eyes. "It's truly a change after seeing all the obedient little dogs that come and go."

Alfred's lips formed a down turned scowl. He didn't appreciate being called a puppy, nor did he he appreciate hearing others being called dogs. Memories of the man who had believed that England would avenge him, who was so confidence that his death would have meaning that he would shoot himself were brought back to Alfred's mind. Did England even care about that man?

Alfred glared at the other with utmost determination. "'I'm a Hero. Not a dog. I -"

"Hey, Eyebrows. The Awesome me is coming in! I brought that package you wanted," a voice resounded from behind the wooden barrier following a click, then a creak as the door opened. Prussia smirked widely at the sight of the two males, walking in to reveal red eyes and white hair along with an outfit of pure black leather- the design of a typical biker.

"Really? Only the first day and you're already tapping that?," Gilbert nodded in the American's direction, his words meant for the Briton. He received a scowl in return.

"Where's the delivery, Prussia?," Arthur kept his question straight and to the point, not bothering to begin a conversation. A small square package was tossed onto the couch as Arthur shifted his gaze back to the blue eyed male. "Kindly get off me, America."

The tone of the green eye male's voice changed with the order, forcing the American to obey with a shudder- one of fear, not pleasure. With a sigh, England repositioned himself on the sofa, straightening himself as he reached for the package, not bothering with his ruffled clothing.

"Give me your gun, America," the Briton gave an order once more, tearing away the package's wrapping. Alfred only stared, on guard at the mention of giving up his gun. His 0.38 mm police issued Glock firearm. His black Bessie.

"Hand over your bleeding gun," England repeated, his voice holding more dark firmness the second rime. Alfred reached into his jacket, whipping out the pistol, and placing it onto the smaller males palm.

As his black Bessie left his hand, another beauty, one maybe even more beautiful replaced it, the sheer sheen of the slick coating burning his sky blue orbs.

A Beretta 92FS Elite

"This here is an Italian model firearm though the name is more well known since this brand type is used as the standard sidearm for the US military. This model is slightly heavier than the basic model but the slide is shorter. Nine mm bullets and fifteen bullets per round,," England looked on in amusement as the American flipped the gun over in his hand, examining every contour and detail of his new firearm. "You've best get used to it. From now on, it's yours."

The Briton turned to the Albino, handing over the only physical evidence of Alfred's law enforcement life with the orders to 'dispose of it' leaving his tongue. America could only watch as his precious former gun disappeared out the door in the hands of a criminal, knowing that the gun soon find it's way as scrap metal. But, despite the pang of guilt of allowing his police issued firearm to be destroyed, the new toy in his hands provided more than enough distraction for the male.

"Well, now that everything is bloody good and done, I trust that you won't shoot me behind the head now, will you, America?, " the green eyed male interrupted the other's current examination of his new toy, a smile gracing his lips. "Seeing how you'll be finding yourself in situations where you'll need that gun often, I hope you use it well."

Azure eyes glanced upward to meet emeralds, lips conveying a single question. "And if I don't?"

The sandy blond smirked. "Oh, but you see, my dear boy, you'll have to."

"From this moment on, the one that will be most by my side will be you," England paused, tossing the brown wrapping paper of the gun parcel into the trash bin.

"Meaning if bullets are flying in _my _direction, they'll also be flying in _yours," _he tapped the piece of metal in the other's hand with a single finger. "Thus, unless you wish to die a terrible bleeding death, you'll use it. It is, one would say, kill or be killed.

Alfred remained silent at the ultimatum as he alternated glances between his new firearm and employer. To be undercover meant to assume an entirely different identity. The complete opposite of who he was.

_Alfred F. Jones _was a Hero.

He didn't kill people. He saved them.

_America_ was a criminal.

People would die by his hand.

* * *

><p><strong>Whoo. This update was fast. But it's four am and I wanted to get this done. So, here ya go. Okay. The gun things. Found it on the internet. Before then I was completely ignorant on guns and anything to do with them so forgive me and correct me if you spot anything wrong. Same goes for grammar mistakes and alike. Well, 'til next time. Review~<strong>


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